


Small And Forgotten Things

by triplefish213



Series: Wings and Flyte [3]
Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I was gonna write a bit where it was when they were older, Kinda, Wing Grooming, but then it was bad so I cut it out, idk how old they are here I just wrote it, it's more like bittersweet, uh, yeah idk how to tag things I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triplefish213/pseuds/triplefish213
Summary: Defiance isn't always in the big things. Sometimes it can be as small as a discarded brush left within reach of forgotten hands.
Relationships: Septimus Heap & Mandy Marwick
Series: Wings and Flyte [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991479
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Small And Forgotten Things

" _Hey_ ," There was a slight nudge on his shoulder, just to emphasise the whisper.

"Hey, 412, you awake?" Oh. Just 409. There was only one reasonable reply then.

"Mmhhmff go ' _way_." They only got so much time to sleep, after all. And yet.

"No," another shoulder nudge, slightly stronger this time. "look what I found!" 409 preceded to hit 412 lightly over the head with whatever it was he'd found. Something made of _rock_ , by the feel of it.

A quick glance out from where he lay curled under the thin sheet revealed it was not, in fact, a rock, but a brush. A _wing_ brush. It was plain, just polished wood with a short handle, and it was worn and weathered, but it might as well have been gold to two boys who's wings had barely been touched for a year and a half. Yes, they were trapped under a net and a brush was hardly going to do anything about the sores and bent feathers, and yet….

"I'm going first!" 409 half threw the brush at him, grinning as he turned around to perch on the edge of the bed. His feet were tapping excitedly on the floor and just like always, 412 couldn't quite bring himself to say no. Especially not when his friend looked so excited. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and muttered "Shh!" as quietly as he could manage, before grabbing the brush.

He couldn't say it was nice to hold. It was just heavy enough to be a constant presence, and there were grooves worn in the handle from what might have been decades of use. Grooves big enough that his small hands couldn't hold it right, and he felt like he was about to drop it. There was something scratched in the side, but neither of them knew how to read it. It didn't matter. He shifted slightly, so he could reach better, and leaned forward, nervously brushing at the feathers, trying to ignore the metal that clung to places like it had been welded there.

It was only after a minute that he realised he'd been so engrossed in not tangling up metal and brush that he hadn't noticed 409 go tense, and a quick glance showed that his face was scrunched up in some indecipherable emotion. He stopped immediately, worried, and only got more so when his friend spun around in confusion.

"Why'd you stop?"

412 blinked. "You looked….uncomfortable? Like it hurt?"

They stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment, before 409 broke into silent giggles. After a minute, he managed to whisper, "No, no I wasn't-" before doubling over again. "It didn't hurt, you weren't- I wasn't- it tickled."

"...Oh! Well, I'll carry on then?" He picked the brush back up, settling back into position when it was snatched from his hand, and 409 gave that half-grin he did, pushing him to the edge of the bed.

"Nope! Your turn now."

They stayed up until sunrise that night, and hastily shoved the brush under 409's mattress when the door was thrown open to announce morning roll call. The two of them shared glances all day, and for a while that was their routine, though they never stayed up as late as the first day.

They were found out, of course, and punished, but it didn't really matter all that much. They'd known it would end at some point, and it wasn't like it was the first time they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't. They still whispered about in the moonlight that made its way in through the tiny window, and it had been fun, while it lasted.


End file.
